


Say You Won't Let Go

by Only_angel_28



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Airports, Chance Meetings, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fear of Flying, Fluff, M/M, POV Harry, Seattle, Strangers to Lovers, Travel, sick/comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-12
Updated: 2017-08-12
Packaged: 2018-12-14 15:06:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11785695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Only_angel_28/pseuds/Only_angel_28
Summary: Harry hates flying. Louis is the kind stranger who helps him when he gets sick in the airport restroom. The rest, as they say, is history.





	Say You Won't Let Go

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, lovelies! The idea for this crept up on me whilst I was traveling recently, and I just couldn't get it out of my head. So here it is. I really hope you enjoy! Xx.

 

Harry raced through the international terminal of Heathrow Airport, his silhouette reflected back at him in the long stretch of glass wall to his left, chasing him like a ghost. With one hand, he heaved his ruck sack higher on his shoulder and reached his other hand up to his head. The beads of perspiration on his temple transferred to his wrist as he clutched his beanie over his wild curls, wind whipping through them as he legged it through the terminal.

 

His progress was halted by a large cluster of teenagers who were all dressed in crisp, white monogrammed polos and deep crimson blazers. He navigated his way around them. Two girls on the outskirts of the group looked up at him from their iphones and giggled, eyeing him appreciatively as he swept past. After skirting around the perimeter of the large group, there was only a handful of people and roughly ten meters between Harry and his destination. He hitched his jeans up from where they had started to slide down his hips, pulling in a deep breath and sprinting for the security check point.

 

When he reached the end of the seemingly endless queue, he let his ruck sack fall from his shoulders with a dramatic thud. Several pairs of eyes - some displeased, some merely curious - turned to him simultaneously. He arranged the muscles of his face into an apologetic grimace and leaned forward to rest his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. His chest was still heaving slightly when he stood back to his full height, but his lungs seemed to at least be distributing oxygen to his cells more effectively as they expanded. He scrubbed a hand down his face and darted his tongue out to wet his lips, the dry, recycled air of the airport already causing his normally soft lips to feel parched and chapped. He pulled out his phone from his back pocket to check his flight details for the thousandth time, and shouldered his rucksack as the queue began to slowly crawl towards the waiting metal detectors and uniformed officials working the security checkpoint.

 

Harry’s heart pounded rhythmically in his chest. He could feel his blood thrumming through his veins, throbbing at every pulse point. He hated the whole “hurry up and wait” aspect of air travel. His nerves were raw, his stomach queasy with anxiety. He just wanted to get this over with; to get through security, find the correct gate, get himself a cup of tea, pop a xanax, and wait for his flight in some semblance of peace. The constant lurches to his progress - the starts and stops - were not in any way aiding him on his quest to relax. He had always dealt with his anxiety in the same practiced manner - by confronting the source of it head on and getting it over with as quickly as possible. Apparently, no one else had gotten the memo, or the world wasn’t feeling very accommodating today. Everyone Harry encountered that morning - from the conductor of the train that was delayed arriving, to the throngs of fellow travelers content to meander in a mind-numbingly slow fashion through the airport, to the bored looking security officer moving at a snail’s pace as he checked passports and boarding passes - it seemed they were all determined to drag out this painful process as long as physically possible, completely oblivious to Harry’s distress.

 

When he finally made it through security, his anxiety was only ratcheted up further by being selected for a “random” full-body pat down after failing to remove a guitar pick from one of his pockets that he hadn’t realized was even there, he was exhausted and slightly traumatized after being manhandled by the officer who performed his screening. Thankfully, Harry had been able to find the correct gate for his flight without attracting any more of the drama or disaster that had become synonymous with his travel experience thus far. He winged a silent prayer of gratitude for life’s small blessings as he settled into a deserted seat in front of the smooth glass wall overlooking the exterior of the gate. He sighed and tipped his head back against the cool glass, drumming his fingers on his thighs and willing his heart rate to slow.

 

He was reaching into his ruck sack for his tangled ear buds, more than ready to blare his music and slip into an artificially manufactured state of hazy calm courtesy of his xanax prescription, when his stomach rolled with a powerful wave of nausea. He hefted his ruck sack onto his back and sprinted for the loo at other side of the gate, weaving through the crowded aisles with his hand clamped firmly over his mouth.

 

When he entered the loo, he was eternally grateful to find it empty save for a guy washing his hands at the opposite end of the room with his back to Harry. Harry caught the reflection of the guy’s electric blue eyes in the mirror, flitting upwards in surprise as Harry unceremoniously tossed his ruck sack into the corner and sprinted for the nearest stall. He had just enough time to register the artfully tousled brown hair and gorgeous bone structure peeking out from beneath a fine dusting of stubble that accompanied the stranger’s curious gaze, before nearly colliding with the stall in front of him.

 

He flung open the door, his likeness distorted as it was reflected back at him by the shiny metal, and shouldered his way inside the stall. The door bounced off the locking mechanism and hit him squarley in the arse as he sank to his knees and retched violently into the toilet. He tried, rather unsuccessfully, not to think about how disgusting the grimy tiled floor was beneath him as his stomach continued to empty itself relentlessly. He coughed and sputtered, gagging on the acidic burn as bile climbed up his throat. Even after chucking up the entirety of his stomach contents, and what he was pretty certain was his body’s entire supply of bile, there was still no reprieve. He dry heaved painfully for a few moments, his eyes burning as tears slipped down his cheeks. He was just wiping his mouth with the back of one of his hands, his other curled loosely around his throbbing lower abdomen, when there was a polite knock on the slightly ajar door of his stall.

 

“Hey man, are you alright? Listen, I don’t mean to embarrass you, so if I’m making things worse just tell me to fuck off and I’ll leave you alone, but I couldn’t just walk out the door and pretend I didn’t hear you puking your guts out. Can I get you some water or something?” A high, raspy voice asked, its cadences pleasantly accented by a Yorkshire lilt.

 

 _No. Please, no_. It could only be the attractive stranger who had been washing his hands when Harry came in.

 

“Oh, God,” Harry moaned. “I’m so sorry you had to hear that. That was..." he trailed off as another wave of nausea hit him and he dry heaved until he was gasping for air. “...bloody disgusting,” he finished the aborted sentence pitifully.

 

“Look, mate, you’re obviously feeling poorly, so don’t worry about that, yeah? I’m going to go get you some water. Just don’t, um…move.”

 

Harry lifted two fingers in a salute before realizing the guy couldn’t see him, unless he was Superman and had x-ray vision allowing him to see through the still mostly closed stall door.

 

“Wasn’t planning on it.”

 

“Right,” the guy chuckled softly.

 

Harry could hear the quick percussion of his steps against the tile as he moved to exit the loo. He glanced under the gap between the floor and the door of the stall and watched a pair of worn, black vans disappear around the corner. As soon as he was alone, Harry groaned and tipped his head back against the cool metal stall surround, pressing the heels of his hands into his eye sockets and then dragging them down his face in an exaggeratedly slow manner. He buried his head in his hands, feeling his warm cheeks - flushed with embarrassment - against his palms. A few minutes later, he heard the soft pitter patter of feet on the tile and sucked in his breath. Knuckles rapped lightly against the stall door.

 

“Hey, its me. Can I…um, can I come in? I brought you some water and some ginger mints.”

 

Harry changed his mind; this guy was _definitely_ Superman.

 

“Yeah. Yeah, okay. Thanks,” Harry managed weakly, nodding his head.

 

The door creaked open slowly and Harry lifted his head, his gaze sliding up the stranger’s body inch by inch. He was wearing all black - the already familiar black vans, black skinny jeans that were cuffed at the ankle and clung to the guy’s thick thighs in a manner that made Harry’s head spin (not exactly helpful given his current state), and a slightly sheer black t-shirt that was just translucent enough to expose a hint of ink across the guy’s delicate collar bones. Harry’s breath hitched as the stranger squatted down in front of him, twisting off the cap of the water bottle in his hands and offering it to Harry.

 

“Here.” He lifted the bottle to Harry’s lips and tipped it back slowly. “I’m Louis, by the way.”

 

Harry squeezed his eyes shut as the icy liquid slid down his aching throat, still raw from the scald of his stomach acid.

 

“Harry,” he replied weakly, his voice rough.

 

Louis was still crouching in front of him - his hands clasped in front of his chest, elbows propped on his thighs - as he smiled reassuringly at Harry.

 

“Alright, Harry?” He asked, cocking his head to the side sweetly.

 

“Honestly, no. I feel like shit, but this,” he gestured to the water bottle on the floor next to his thigh, “will help, hopefully. Thanks, by the way. I don’t think I said, but that was really kind of you to bring this to me. Especially after you heard me chuck up my stomach contents in spectacularly disgusting fashion.”

 

Louis waved him off dismissively. “Nah, no worries. I’ve got six younger siblings. I’m quite used to disgusting.”

 

Harry exhaled sharply. "Six, _wow_."

 

“Yeah," Louis chuckled, his nose scrunching up in what was clearly an expression of fondness, "my family is a bit of a circus.”

 

Harry was about to comment further when the small amount of water he had managed to down made a guest re-appearance, and he was retching into the toilet once again.

 

“Shit, Harry,” Louis muttered, reaching out to place a hand between his shoulder blades.

 

Harry flinched, caught off guard by the easy way Louis touched him, like they weren’t two strangers who met in the loo at the airport not even five minutes ago.

 

“Oh, sorry,” Louis apologized, immediately removing his hand. “I didn’t mean to…”

 

Harry’s skin suddenly felt too cold beneath his soft, waffle-knit Henley, and he didn’t allow himself to dwell too much on the fact that it was because he was aching in the absence of Louis’ warm palm against his back.

 

“No, no, no. Please don’t apologize, I’m just a bit peaky is all. It, um…it felt nice.”

 

Harry chanced a look at Louis over his shoulder. Louis gave him a small, crooked smile and slid his hand back between the arches of Harry’s shoulder blades. Harry’s eyes fluttered shut involuntarily. Louis’ hand was warm and soothing as he began to slowly rub circles over Harry’s back.

 

“This okay?” He asked tentatively, his voice barely a whisper.

 

“Feels lovely. Thank you,” Harry answered on a contented sigh, his eyes still closed.

 

Unfortunately, his bliss was short-lived. His eyes flew open as his stomach heaved yet again, and he sputtered as the remainder of the water spewed from his mouth into the toilet.

 

“Shit, babe,” Louis breathed, leaning forward to brush Harry’s unruly curls out of the line of fire, gathering them loosely in his fist at the nape of Harry’s neck.

 

Despite the unpleasant view, and the strain on his back muscles from his position hunched over the toilet, Harry’s blood was practically singing in his veins.

 

_Babe._

 

Louis - this wonderful, beautiful boy who didn’t know Harry from Adam, but brought him water and rubbed his back because he was feeling poorly - had called him _babe_. The endearment echoed in his mind like the sweetest melody.

 

Louis used the hand that wasn’t holding Harry’s hair out of his face to stroke his back reassuringly. “Did you want a mint?” He prompted, scratching lightly down Harry’s spine.

 

“Yes, please.” Harry turned around slowly and settled back against the side of the stall as Louis tore open the small package with his teeth.

 

He reached for Harry’s hand, and placed a small, round mint in the center of his palm, his fingers brushing ever so slightly against Harry's skin and lingering a little longer than what would probably be considered necessary. Harry waited for Louis to pull his hand away before he popped the mint into his mouth. He sucked around the hard sphere, electricity zipping through his body when he noticed Louis watching with rapt interest as he hollowed his cheeks. Perhaps a little high on the feeling, he rolled the mint around in his mouth, trapping it between his bottom row of teeth and his jaw so that it pushed his cheek out, and sucked around it. Louis’ sharp intake of breath was audible. He jerked his head up, tearing his eyes from the small bulge poking out Harry’s cheek, and shifted backwards a bit. The thought of Louis leaving was far more distressing than it should have been. Harry didn’t even know him, and yet the thought of him getting to his feet and walking out of this bathroom, and effectively Harry’s life, was enough to cause a dull, aching sensation to bloom in Harry’s chest and press uncomfortably against his ribs. It felt like being homesick for a place you had never actually lived before. The thought of their spark being stamped out before it even had the chance to ignite was nearly unbearable, but what was Harry supposed to do? Follow him onto his flight? Who even knew where he was headed, and besides, that line of thinking was utterly mental, and a tad creepy. _God, Harry needed to get a grip_. He shook his head gingerly from side to side.

 

“Thank you. For this…for everything. You were very kind to help me. I hope I haven’t made you miss your flight or something.” Regret burned Harry’s lips as the words tumbled out.

 

“Nah," Louis shrugged adorably, completely brushing off Harry's concern. "I checked when I went to get you water. My flight to Seattle has been delayed due to weather, so I’ve got all day really,” he finished, giving Harry an impish grin.

 

Harry’s heart leapt in his chest.

 

“You’re going to Seattle?” He asked incredulously.

 

Louis nodded.

 

“That’s where I’m headed as well.”

 

“Well, fuck me. This is like fate or some shit. What a coincidence, huh?” Louis gave Harry a dazzling smile.

 

Harry floundered for a moment, hung up on Louis’ words, his brain re-playing the phrase “fuck me” coming from Louis’ mouth on a loop, in slow motion.

 

“Yeah, uh…yeah, that’s really something," Harry laughed nervously, throwing in an awkward throat clearing for good measure. "Small world and all that.”

 

Louis, like the angel he had proven himself to be, generously ignored Harry's awkwardness and blessed him with yet another beautiful smile. It slowly faded from his face, like the sun going behind a cloud, as his expression slipped into a mask of concern. “You think your stomach’s going to hold up for the flight?”

 

“Yeah, it’s just nerves. I hate flying. I’ll be fine eventually.”

 

“Well, we’ve got time. Feel like a distraction? I’ve got every series of _Breaking Bad_ on my phone. Wanna watch with me while we wait?”

 

“Yeah, that sounds ace. I’ve never seen it before.”

 

Louis gaped at him, his jaw dropping with an audible pop. “You…what?”

 

Harry shrugged.

 

“You’re missing out, mate. In fact, I now consider it my personal mission to get you as hooked on it as I am. I’m doing you a service, really.”

 

“Is that so?” Harry laughed.

 

“It is,” Louis nodded, smirking.

 

For a moment they just stared at each other, twin expressions of quiet amusement etched into their features. Louis rose out of his crouch, offering Harry his hand and pulling him up carefully. Harry swayed a little on his feet and Louis reached out and clasped a hand over his forearm to steady him.

 

He raised a delicately curved brow at Harry. "Alright?"

 

Harry massaged his temple with his free hand. He opened his eyes slowly and gave Louis a tiny nod.

 

“C’mon then, Curly. We’ve got work to do.” Louis slid his hand down Harry’s forearm and laced their fingers, tugging Harry out of the stall.

 

                                                                        ~

 

They spent the entirety of the three hour delay with their heads bent together over Louis’ phone, sharing a pair of ear buds as Louis indoctrinated Harry into the world of Walter White and Jesse Pinkman.

 

“This is so good. You win, I’m addicted,” Harry confessed with a small grin, popping out an ear bud and leaning forward to look at Louis’ face.

 

Louis beamed proudly. “Told ya.”

 

He unplugged his ear buds and wound them around his iphone, shutting it off and pocketing it. There had just been an announcement that the weather had finally cleared and their flight would begin boarding in approximately twenty minutes. Harry thumbed over his shoulder in the direction of the coffee shop across the terminal.

 

“I’m going to go grab a tea before we board. Can I get you something? It’s the least I can do, really.”

 

Louis smiled warmly, eyes crinkling around the edges. “Tea would be lovely, thank you.”

 

“How do you take it?”

 

“Piping hot, just a splash of milk. No sugar, please.”

 

“Coming right up.” Harry winked and set off across the terminal, smiling as he passed a young mum cradling a tiny infant to her chest.

 

When he returned with their tea, the plane had already begun boarding. He looked around frantically for Louis after noticing that the seat he had previously occupied was empty.

 

“Harry!” Louis called. “Over here.”

 

Louis was standing in the queue to board the plane with Harry’s ruck sack on his back and his own duffle bag slung over his shoulder. Harry politely weaved his way through the crowd as he made his way to Louis. He handed him his tea and moved to slide his ruck sack off Louis’ shoulder, but Louis dodged the advance.

 

“I got it,” he smiled sweetly.

 

“You don’t have to do that,” Harry was quick to assure him.

 

“I don’t mind.”

 

“Well, at least let me hold your tea then.”

 

Louis handed his paper cup back to Harry with a shy smile. “Thanks.”

 

Behind them, someone cleared their throat loudly and Harry tore his gaze away from Louis long enough to see they were holding up the queue.

 

“Sorry!” He muttered sheepishly at the businessman behind them and stepped up to the gate, Louis at his side.

 

“Evening, gentlemen. Boarding passes please,” the British Airways official greeted warmly.

 

Louis wordlessly took both paper cups from Harry’s hands so he could fish his boarding pass out from the front pocket of his jeans. Harry smiled gratefully in response. He handed the man his ticket and watched him swipe it over the scanner.

 

“Oh, Harry can you grab mine for me? It's in my back pocket.”

 

Certainly, it would be easier for Louis to just hand Harry back their cups of tea so he could retrieve it on his own, but that wasn’t what happened. He had deliberately chosen to ask Harry to reach into his pocket -  _fuck_ ,  _the pocket of his insanely tight skinnies that were practically painted across his arse -_ and get it himself. The corners of Louis’ lips quirked in a hopeful smile as Harry stared at him like an absolute nutter.

 

“Uh…sure. Yeah, no problem.” Harry’s voice shook traitorously.

 

His hand trembled slightly as he slid it into Louis’ back pocket and felt…nothing. Well, nothing but the swell of Louis’ arse beneath the tight black fabric. And fuck if it wasn’t the nicest arse Harry had ever seen, let alone _touched_. He continued groping around for Louis’ boarding pass, oblivious to the curious looks they were garnering from the queue of people behind them, as his hand rubbed against Louis’ arse.

 

“Other side, love,” Louis prompted, his tone playful and amused.

 

Harry's cheeks flamed. “Right, sorry," he muttered, extracting his hand and reaching into Louis’ other pocket where his fingers immediately closed around the slip of paper. He pulled it out and offered it to the gate attendant sheepishly, unable to look him in the eye.

 

The man only chuckled lightly as he scanned Louis’ boarding pass and handed it back to Harry with a cheery, “Enjoy your flight, lads.”

 

Still unable to look anyone in the eye, Harry's gaze fell onto the piece of paper clutched in his hand. He inhaled sharply as he lifted it closer to his face, examining it next to his own boarding pass. When he was finally able to make sense of what he was seeing, his eyes widened comically, a hysterical peal of laughter bubbling in his chest.

 

“I don’t believe this,” he marveled.

 

Louis looked at him curiously. “What is it?”

 

“Louis, our seats are right next to each other. Look, I’m in 32 E and you’re 32 F.” He proudly held up the two slips of paper as evidence to an incredulous Louis.

 

Louis sounded awe-struck as his eyes scanned over the boarding passes clutched in Harry’s hand. “Can’t say I’ve ever really believed in fate, but after today I might have to rethink my position. This is madness!”

 

Their eyes locked and something warm and bright and hopeful settled in Harry’s chest. Louis was still holding both of the paper tea cups in his hands, in addition to having both their bags slung across his back. Harry hurriedly shoved their boarding passes into his back pocket so he could relieve Louis of having to carry everything. Taking the cups from Louis’ hands, Harry let his fingers linger and his thumb skim along the space between Louis’ thumb and forefinger.

 

For all intents and purposes they were strangers, but despite this fact, Harry had never felt more comfortable with someone in his entire life. He found himself being drawn to Louis in a way that made words like _fate_ and _destiny_ feel at home rushing through his mind. He had already started rearranging things in his head and his heart to make room for Louis there. Perhaps, all this should scare him - the easy way in which Louis already touched him like Harry’s body was a route he had traveled countless times before, the effortless flow of conversation between them like they had been friends for years, the desperate feeling clamping around Harry’s heart like a vice to be _closer_ , to know _more_ \- but instead of being crippled with fear, his body felt light, effervescent, tingling with the exquisite sense of anticipation you only get when you’re looking forward to something the next day and you can’t sleep because your mind is racing, teeming with the possibilities as excitement pulses through your veins.

 

They bumped hips as they made their way down the walkway to board their plane, smiling at each other every time like they're privy to a secret no one else knows. They found their seats with ease, Louis stowing their bags under the seats in front of them before settling against the window and Harry taking the seat next to him.

 

“So,” Louis said as they waited for the plane to begin taxying down the runway, “you never told me what you’re going to Seattle for.”

 

“Oh, right. Well, um…it’s a lot of reasons really. I’m a musician and I have a friend called Niall who lives out there. He’s originally from Ireland, but we met in grade eight when he moved to Cheshire with his mum after his parents got divorced. Anyway, Niall’s never really been the type to stay in one place for long. After his A levels, he was out of there. Moved to LA first, but he only lasted about six months, said it wasn’t for him. I think he spent some time in Portland before making his way up to Seattle. He loves it there. Says if it’s good enough for Jimi Hendrix, its good enough for him.” Harry stopped to have an indulgent little chuckle, thinking about Niall, and Louis smiled at him fondly. “He’s quite the guitarist himself, and he says the music scene up there is sick. He’s been proper up my arse about coming out there for months now.”

 

Louis studied him closely, seemed to pick up on the way Harry’s words were masking something deeper.

 

“So what made you finally pull the trigger?” He inquired, his voice gentle and inviting.

 

The way he spoke to Harry with such care, such open interest and concern, made Harry want to tell him all his secrets. He felt inexplicably safe with Louis.

 

“That’s the, um…the other reason. My parents kicked me out.” He looked down at his lap for a minute, twisted one of his rings idly around his finger in an attempt to stave off the tears pricking his eyes.

 

Louis reached out and touched his forearm. His hand was warm and reassuring against Harry’s skin, and it gave him the courage to meet Louis’ eyes when he spoke again.

 

“I was tired of hiding who I was from them, and I deluded myself into thinking they would accept me simply because I was their son. You know, unconditional love and all that? I guess that no longer applies when you tell your parents that you’re gay.” Harry laughed weakly, though nothing was funny. “It was stupid of me, I should have known better.”

 

Louis walked his fingers down Harry’s forearm slowly until he was tracing over the bones in Harry’s wrist with his fingertips. He touched Harry like no one ever had before; like he was fragile, but not in the weak sense. Fragile in the sense that he was precious and deserved to be treated with love and care. It made Harry’s heart ache and the tips of his fingers tingle with longing.

 

“Hey, none of that. It’s never stupid to put your heart out there like that. It’s incredibly brave. Not many people have the courage to be who they really are, especially when they are met with less than ideal reactions from the people who are supposed to love and support them no matter what. I’m really sorry that happened to you, you don’t deserve that. No one does. For what it’s worth, I understand how you feel. My dad wasn’t exactly thrilled when I came out either. It took a lot of time for us to get to where we are today. I wouldn’t exactly say he’s supportive now, more like tolerant, but it’s progress, so maybe there is hope for your parents too.”

 

The tears that had been welling up in Harry’s eyes spilled over his lower lids and cut tiny rivers down his cheeks at Louis’ words.

 

“Thank you," he breathed shakily.

 

The sentiment was wholly inadequate. It didn’t even come close to portraying the depth of gratitude that Harry felt towards him, but he hoped it would be enough for Louis to understand just the same. Louis smiled at him knowingly and squeezed his hand.

 

At that moment, their plane began to take off down the runway. Harry had been so caught up in the beauty of Louis’ blue eyes, the warmth of his gentle gaze, and the comfort of his kind words, that he hadn’t even had time to feel anxious about the thing he had spent the last several hours dreading and stressing over. Panic set in all at once, and Louis immediately noticed the shift in Harry’s body language as anxiety spread through him like poison.

 

“Hey,” he murmured softly, lacing their fingers and clutching Harry’s hand tightly. “Look at me.” He inched a finger under Harry’s chin, coaxing his head up until their eyes met. “You are so strong, Harry. After everything you just told me - what you went through - this is nothing compared to that. You can do this, and I’ll be right here, yeah?”

 

Harry nodded woodenly and dropped his head onto Louis’ shoulder, he didn’t allow himself to question if that was too intimate or not, just took the plunge in desperate need of comfort. Like everything else with Louis thus far, it was easy. It felt so incredibly right the way he melted into Louis’ side - his face buried in the soft, fragrant skin at the crook of Louis neck and shoulder, and Louis’ cheek resting against the crown of his head. He could feel Louis’ steady exhales ruffling his curls and tickling his scalp. He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, allowing a sense of calm, that could never be replicated by any artificial substance, to wash over him. Louis’ presence was better than any drug, and Harry nuzzled further into his neck, desperate for a contact high.

 

Once their plane was in the air, cutting smoothly through the clouds, Louis leaned forward to peek at Harry.

 

“Alright, love?”

 

Just like it had earlier, Harry’s heart soared at the endearment. He nodded, not trusting his voice with all the sunshine flowing in his veins.

 

“Need another distraction?” Louis suggested.

 

Harry nodded again, so overwhelmed with gratitude for this beautiful boy who had found his way into Harry’s life under the most unlikely of circumstances.

 

For awhile, they watched more _Breaking Bad_. It wasn’t long before Harry was lulled into sleep by the hum of the plane’s engine, the press of a warm body against his side, the intoxicating scent of Louis’ skin, and the comforting feeling of Louis’ fingers in his hair. Eventually, Louis fell asleep too, with Harry’s head on his shoulder and his fingers still twined in his curls.

 

                                                                        ~

 

When Harry woke sometime later, the first thing he saw was Louis’ lazy smile, blurry blue eyes, and sleep-ruffled hair. He had the kind of all-consuming beauty that inspired sonnets, and Harry already had a dozen song ideas floating around in his head just from one look into Louis’ eyes.

 

“Hi,” Louis mumbled sleepily, a sweet smile curling his lips.

 

“Hi,” Harry returned just as softly, his heart bursting in his chest.

 

They talked for hours about everything and nothing at all. Louis told him about his job as a software engineer and the Seattle based company that had hired him for his first job out of UNI. They argued over their favourite footie teams’ respective chances at the league title (Harry being a Man U fan, and Louis a diehard Doncaster Rovers supporter). They discussed everything from the merits of the Oxford comma to the guilty pleasure that is American reality television. Louis told Harry adorable anecdotes about his younger siblings, and Harry patiently explained the meaning behind every visible bit of ink etched into his skin as Louis pointed to each tattoo, tapping lightly on Harry’s arm with the pad of his index finger. They shared a pair of ear buds, switching them back and forth between their iphones as they took turns exploring each other’s music libraries. They laughed like loons over the stupidest things until they both had tears in their eyes and their stomachs were aching.

 

The hours passed entirely too quickly, and before they knew it, their plane had landed in Seattle and parked at the gate. It felt like the most natural thing in the world when they walked down the long corridor leading into the airport side by side with their fingers laced. Louis waited patiently whilst Harry retrieved his guitar from the baggage carousel, and Harry accompanied Louis to the rental car kiosk to pick up his car. Louis offered to give Harry a ride to Niall’s place and Harry accepted eagerly, desperate to extend their time together. Hope had started to bloom in Harry’s chest at the prospect of he and Louis being in the same city, and all the possibilities that held.

 

Leant up against Louis’ rental car on the dark street in front of Niall’s apartment, Harry felt brave. When their lips met, it was inevitable. Harry had the stunning realization that everything in his life had led up to this moment, and he thanked whatever gods may be for every decision that brought him to where he was standing that instant. Every struggle, every injustice, every unkind word and cruel touch Harry had ever experienced fell away as he melted into Louis’ embrace. He could feel their hearts beating wildly in perfect synchronization where their chests were pressed tightly together. Harry could taste his future on Louis’ lips, and just like that he was locked in. Eventually, their kisses became a little more feverish, their hands wandering with intent over each other’s bodies. Louis pressed his face into Harry's neck, the delicious drag of his lips causing chills to rise on Harry’s skin.

 

"You’re beautiful, Harry. So kind and lovely and strong. 'M so happy I met you.” Louis kissed the words into Harry’s neck like his voice held the power to ink them on his skin, where they could never be questioned or forgotten.

 

“So happy I met you, Lou. Never been more thankful for my fear of flying than I am right now.”

 

They laughed into each other’s mouths as their lips joined in another bruising kiss. Heat flooded Harry’s veins and curled like flames deep in his stomach as Louis’ tongue pushed past the seam of his lips.

 

”Put my hands where you want me most," Louis whispered into the sensitive skin just below Harry’s ear.

 

Harry reached down to twine their fingers, bringing their clasped hands up to his lips and kissing along Louis' knuckles tenderly. He placed Louis' hand firmly over his heart and covered it with his own. Their eyes met with an intensity that had the potential to start wars, to re-write history, and set entire cities ablaze.

 

" _Here_ ," Harry said with every ounce of conviction he possessed. "In my heart is where I want you most."

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm new to [tumblr](https://seducemymind-findmysoul.tumblr.com/), and still trying to figure it all out, but if you don't mind occasionally bearing witness to my suffering at the hands of technology or my daily fangirling over the perfection that is Louis Tomlinson then please don't hesitate to come say hi! I'd love to make some friends within the fandom :)


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